Page:Records of Woman.pdf/27

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Hark! the warning tone Deepens—its word is Death. Alone, alone, And sad in youth, but chasten'd, I depart, Bowing to heaven. Yet, yet my woman's heart Shall wake a spirit and a power to bless, Ev'n in this hour's o'ershadowing fearfulness, Thee, its first love!—oh! tender still, and true! Be it forgotten if mine anguish threw Drops from its bitter fountain on thy name, Tho' but a moment.

Now, with fainting frame, With soul just lingering on the flight begun, To bind for thee its last dim thoughts in one, I bless thee! Peace be on thy noble head, Years of bright fame, when I am with the dead! I bid this prayer survive me, and retain Its might, again to bless thee, and again! Thou hast been gather'd into my dark fate Too much; too long, for my sake, desolate